


Sugar Impact

by ThomE_Gemcity_06



Series: SUGAR [8]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Bromance, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Drama, Friendly flirting, Friendship & Partnership, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Ill!Steve McGarrett, Innuendo, Light Whump, Platonic Bedfellows, Possibly Pre-Slash, Shameless, Shower Nudity, Snuggles & Cuddles, Subtext, Suggestive Themes, boundary crossing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 11:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10616349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThomE_Gemcity_06/pseuds/ThomE_Gemcity_06
Summary: The morning started with a missed call, followed by a pass on lunch, then a slip-up with a perp. Danny was mildly worried, now he’s genuinely concerned — and with good reason. With Steve, it's never simple.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: Sequel to "GIVE ME SOME SUGAR." This can definitely be considered pre-slash, these guys are seriously comfortable with each other physically and pretty much implying anything and everything without a flinch. But I really just want them to cuddle! Enjoy!

**H A W A I I . F I V E - 0**

Danny was already up that morning—that _early_ morning—making his first cup of instant coffee of the day when his cell rang. He picked it up from among the clutter of his side table and thumbed the slid as he turned back to the counter and his precious coffee.

"Yeah?" he stirred the sugar into his coffee.

" _Morning, brah_." Chin greeted him. " _Didn't know you were waking up with the sun now."_

Danny snorted into his coffee. "Thin walls. Loud new neighbours."

" _Ah, that sucks, brah. You really should find a new place to live_." He voiced even-handedly and not overbearingly. " _I think anywhere else would be better._ " He mused.

"You and Steve scheming behind my back now?" he wondered.

" _With good intentions_ ," Chin chuckled good-naturedly.

"That what he thinks." Danny returned. "I would have thought better of you, though, Chin Ho." He admonished teasingly.

" _Just trying to encourage a friend onto greener pastures_."

"Alright, guru." Danny said. "Out with it. A call this early is never a good thing."

" _We got a body_." Chin told him sombrely. " _I'll text you the address_."

Danny sighed. "You call him yet?"

" _Left a message,"_

"A message…?" Danny wondered. "Alright. You and Kono head to the scene, see what's what, and I'll drop by our fearless leader's. See what mess he's gotten himself into this early," he kept his tone light even as he felt a dark worry start in his chest. Steve _always_ answered his phone. "Knowing him, it can’t be anything good."

" _Got it."_

Danny slipped his phone into his pocket and gulped down some hot coffee. Having been awoken early, he had started his day early, so he was already showered and dressed. So he forlornly dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain and grabbed his service weapon from the lockbox and badge, and he was out the door.

...

Danny pulled his Camaro in the drive next to Steve's blue Silverado. Admittedly, only to himself, he drove a little over the speed limit. He had hit the road just before morning rush when everyone was up and driving to their 9-to-5 regularly scheduled jobs and arrived earlier than originally anticipated. It was a good thing because it shaved minutes off his worry-clock and the less time he spent worrying about his trouble-magnet-partner, all the better for his health.

Slowly, he climbed the porch steps and tried the knob of the front door. It was locked and that gave the blond some form of relief not to have found the door kicked in. That had been a foremost fear; it happened a few times already since he’d known the man—which was already a few too many. He used his own key that Steve had given him a while back, but had come into more frequent use when they started to become cuddle-buddies.

Danny resisted the urge to pull his weapon as pushed the door open with his fingertips. No one tried to shoot him or jump him as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Another worry off his shoulders. Looking around the living room, there was no mess or damage to indicate a fight or theft. But his worry went back up as he saw Steve's phone sitting lonely and ominously on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Steve?" he called. "You in here?" the silence of the house met his inquiry. He picked up Steve's cell and unlocked it, seeing the missed call and unread text from Chin, and his own (several) missed calls that he'd made on his way over. It was set on vibrate and not tone. That was why the putz hadn't been answering; he couldn't hear it, wherever he was.

"Steven" he called again, starting up the stairs after checking the first floor just in case Steve was knocked out somewhere and found nothing (which was a relief and a worry at the same time). "It's too earlier for you to be pulling some crap, McGarrett." He muttered. But he paused at the top of the stairs as he finally heard sounds of the shower running through the open master bedroom. "A shower?" he scoffed. Steve must have just gotten in after a swim or run (knowing Steve, it was probably both 'cause he thought it was ' _fun')_.

Danny went into Steve bedroom, and the memory-foam queen-sized bed that they shared with frequency, and sat at the foot. He tamped the urge to go in the bathroom and flush the toilet, it would serve the SEAL right for worrying him. It would be about three-minutes and the SEAL would be out so he decided to wait. Ankle crossed at his knee, Danny pick at some fuzz that clung to his grey and blue dotted sock. He flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. Three-minutes passed, and the water still hadn't shut off. At six-minutes, Danny was convinced that Steve must have slipped earlier, cracked his head and had been unconscious and bleeding this entire time.

Discretion the farthest thing from his mind, Danny rushed into the bathroom and yanked the shower curtain open--

Steve spun around at the clatter of plastic rings as the curtain was yanked open unexpectedly, his hands up defensively. It wouldn't be the first time some idiotic henchmen broke into his home, but was there no decency left in the world that they couldn't at least wait until he was out of the shower?

"Whoa! Hey!" Danny shouted, his own hands up to pacify. _Very_ clearly not unconscious at the bottom of the tub.

Danny's voice instantly had his defensive walls falling down and he relaxed. "Danny," he sighed in relief, the shower's spray hitting him between the shoulder blades. Then, "D-- Danny?! What the hell, man?" Steve exclaimed and quickly cupped his junk.

Relieved not to have found Steve at the bottom of the tub, but now caught up with the embarrassing situation he found himself, Danny reverted to snark. "Three-minute Navy shower, my ass! I've been here ten-minutes and you're just shampooing now?"

"Wah--" Steve blinked at him owlishly for a moment, chest panting, a trail of shampoo suds taking a leisurely path down in front of his ear, along his sharp jaw line where it dropped onto his defined chest and continued on lower—to a place that Danny wished he never knew about, but did. His view had been but brief, but he was a trained detective with years of experience. Brief was all it took him to process and retain. He should have just left it to fate. " _That's_ why you came blustering in here? Wow, Daniel. I don't even know what to say."

"No. There is no 'wow' here." Danny held up a finger, his gaze trained firmly above the chest, getting sidetracked. "Do you not remember the time that you broke into my apartment, stole my sugar, _then_ asked my permission, wherein we proceeded to have an argument whilst I was naked and didn't realize—and there was no way you couldn't have? Remember that, huh?" he jabbed his finger at the man's chest in an aborted move.

"That's not fair!" Steve protested. "I didn't know you slept naked."

"I don't sleep naked and you know it."

"I didn't know it _then_." Steve countered.

"The point, Steven—I was naked and you kept on going. Like that was normal! It's not normal, okay? Do you get that?"

"I've spent my entire adulthood in the Navy, Danny. Did you think there was time to be precious and self-conscious? There's not the luxury. It's the male body," Steve shrugged. "I've seen more cocks that I discernibly count. You have nothing to be ashamed about, Danno, believe me." He spoke in a comforting tone that had the blond staring at him in open-mouthed horror. "Now can you--?" he lifted one hand and made a pulling-closed gesture.

"I have nothing to be ashamed of?!" Danny finally managed to sputter, feeling a heat in his face. "Of course I don't—You don't get to say that to me!"

"Why?" his brow furrowed in that obliviously misinformed way he had. "I was telling the truth. I thought you'd appreciate that, Danno."

"App-- You just don't say that to a guy! And you certainly don't say it while naked and calling me 'Danno'. It's weird. It's personal. It's boundary laden! It's--! I don't know," he growled in frustration, hands flying out. "You just don't, alright?"

Steve exhaled heavily. "I was happily minding my own business. And trying to have a shower right now. So, anything 'boundary laden' was blasted through by you, my friend."

And he got that sudden bright-eyed look that always seemed to land Danny in no good—mostly getting shot at or _running_. The blond was instantly on-guard.

"You were taking so goddamned long, I thought you'd cracked your head open or something." He defended himself, and sharp-turning back onto track. "See how much I care next time!"

"Aw, so you ran in here against your proclivities as a pedantic character?"

Danny scowled, "Don't look so pleased about it." He crossed his arms over his tie.

Steve grinned devilishly and that eye-spark was back in play. "Since you're here... save some water and join me?" he released his privacy hold on his junk and turned his head into the now cold water spray, rinsing the shampoo from his hair.

"McGarrett!" Danny cursed him, grabbing the curtain and jerking it closed. Steve burst out laughing. The revenge toilet flush didn't do much but it helped release some of the blond’s frustration. "Do you have no sense of privacy?!" it was followed by bathroom door slamming, chased closely by his bedroom door.

Hair already washed, Steve only took three minutes to finish showering, drying off and get dressed. He trotted casually down the stairs, gun and badge in hand to find Danny absconded in the kitchen, waiting by the microwave as it ran, a cup of coffee already in hand.

Danny quickly held up a hand to obscure his view of the man as he paused in the doorway to strap his job accessories into place. "Are you civilized and dressed in clothing, you animal?"

Steve chuckled and poured himself a cup, leaning back against the counter by the sink. "Don't know. Take a peek and find out."

"Not funny, Steve." Danny grumbled, but lowered his hand. He took a sip of coffee as he shot a glance at his partner askance. "Could do with an Irish coffee. Or a good concussion to muddle that last ten minutes."

Steve chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "So why are you here so early anyway?"

The microwave beeped. "Chin called. We have a case. You weren't answering." He pulled out a plate and Steve wrinkled his nose.

"What the hell is that and how did it get into my house?" Steve questioned, pointing.

"Breakfast burrito," Danny told him, picking up the hot wrap in loose fingers. He took a bite, blowing through the heat. He hadn't had the chance to eat something before Chin had called. "Snuck it passed your unsanctioned junk-food-sensors and buried in the back of your freezer. You ready yet, princess? Took you long enough to shampoo your hair,"

"Maybe I was soaping other things," Steve murmured mischievously.

"Ugh!" Danny choked on his burrito. It got stuck distastefully in his throat and he had to drink the rest of his coffee to get it down. He coughed. "Just lost my appetite. Thanks." He stepped on the peddle to the trash and chucked the rest of his breakfast out. "Happy now?" he shouldered his partner out of the way and put his plate in the sink before washing his hands.

"Very." Steve said. "Stopped you from eating that cardboard crap, didn't it?" he followed the man from the kitchen.

Danny took the time of Steve getting his shoes on to take up the man's phone (discreetly delete his own unread messages), and slipped it into the man's pocket as Steve locked up. It didn't go passed the man's notice, though.

"Finally getting with the program, Danno?"

"In your delusional dreams, McGarrett. Next time take your phone with you so I don't have to come down here and have my retinas assaulted and my brain scarred."

"I didn't think you could be this dramatic this early." Steve said over the roof of the car. "But I should have guessed that you always have one ready in the chamber. Always be prepared."

"You have no sense of the line, at all, do you?" he flung back across the roof, unimpeded. "Do you not remember that whole conversation we had on not needing to know _everything_ about each other?" Danny got into the passenger side of the Camaro. "That was not just a one-time deal for the night, you know? It's a daily appliance,"

"You're the one who asked," Steve reminded him, pulling from the drive, following Danny's directions to the scene.

"I deserve that," Danny muttered. "But let's leave a little mystery in this unhealthy obsessive possessive co-dependent partnership/friendship, okay? From now on you are just a life-sized G.I. Joe and blank down there."

"Now that, babe, is detrimental case of denial." He didn't fail to remind, "You know exactly how _not_ blank I am."

"What's detrimental is my seeing you in your physical entirety." Danny lobbed back, waving at his partner's form. "I'll sleep with ya, McGarrett—but I'm not going to _sleep_ with you."

"Ooh," Steve voiced. "You just cut to the quick there. I'mma need a minute to process this, Danny."

"Oh, funny guy." He deadpanned. "Or, you know, you could always... just not tell me." He held out his hands in a gesture of would-you-look-at that as Steve pulled into the crime scene.

**0 -xH50x- 0**

Danny gave a cursory knock on Steve's closed office door, but had the door already halfway open by the time he withdrew his hand. By the time the door snicked back closed, he was already on the black leather couch; plastic takeout cup in hand. It was just that, a cursory work-manner; if his partner was on the phone or actually _doing_ some work, then Danny would have waited to been invited, as it was...

They'd made it to the scene just fine, not actually long after Max had gotten there for the body with Steve's general driving nature of early morning death wishes. It was an elderly woman who had been discovered this morning stashed in a dumpster outside a small family-owned tea shop by the owner's daughter who had been opening the shop.

Despite lack of identification on the victim, the owner's daughter recognized the old women. Mrs. Hokana, a widow, who had been a frequent customer at the shop.

Max's preliminary on-scene check put Mrs. Hokana's death at around 9 p.m. the previous night. When they questioned the tea shop owner's daughter she claimed she closed up the shop early last night after getting a call from her husband that her son crashed his bike and broke his arm, spending that window of time in the E.R. at King’s with her family. It was shortly after that, that the victim was murdered.

H.P.D. canvassed the area and questioned the other shop and store owners on the block, but no one appeared to open as early as the tea shop. There also wasn't any traffic cameras on what was, by all accounts, a quiet street. The Five-0 team had collected witness statements, and walked the scene as C.S.U. processed. Before they split up into pairs; the cousins to track down next-of-kin and break the sad news, and Steve and Danny to the woman's condo.

Who the hell would want to kill a little old lady, steal her purse and stash her body? The answers were out there, the team was just waiting for Max and Charlie to help provide them. That was their move right now, the waiting game. While Steve sulked in his office waiting impatiently for that one lead of inquiry that would let him roughshod through the streets of Honolulu to get their perp; Danny had taken the opportunity (with Kono) to go for lunch. The two bites of that burrito that he had at Steve's and the two interrupted cups of coffee, had done little to pep his energy levels. They were even nice enough to bring back something for Chin and Steve. It was currently in his hand.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Steve asked from behind his desk, staring at his computer screen, slumped forward in decidedly bad posture. "What's wrong with the couch in _your_ office?"

"Because your _so_ busy?" Danny returned. "Definitely not because of your winning personality, Mr. Grumpy Pants." Steve cut him a glare. "Kono and I just got back from lunch--"

"When you should be working."

"We're waiting for the Lab and Morgue to fill us in on some much needed blank spaces that would go so much better with the whole in colour." Danny answered smoothly with an artistic tongue. He easily ignored the brunette's scowl and continued on with his previous line of conversation, "And brought you back something." He held up the large, clear plastic takeout cup with its lid, straw and dark green contents, and gave it a little wag. It was one of those food-health-shakes that his partner liked for whatever reason; an entire meal in (near) liquid form. "Swamp Express, right?" he leaned forward and put it on the desk. "Your favourite."

"Thanks," Steve said, "But I'm not that hungry right now."

"I'm sorry, it must be that age thing again," Danny said, sitting up. He was stuffed and feeling lethargic with it, but now a little red-light was blinking in his head, "Because I could have sworn you just said that you weren't hungry."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You're hearing's fine, Danny. I'm just not hungry right now. We can't all stuff ourselves with malasadas then clog our arteries right after with Cocoa Puffs."

"Well, this isn't either of those." Danny stood from the couch and sat in one of the armed chairs in front of his partner’s desk. "This is that healthy crap you like so much. The stuff that you keep trying to get me to try, but we both know it'll clean out those clogged arteries you're always going on about like an air canon and kill me." He gave the man a little smile. "Now come on, Pinocchio, a real boy like you needs his calories—how else are you going to have the energy to make O'ahu your own little battlefield and my life all that more difficult?" He pushed the plastic cup forward on the desk until it hit the edge of the rubber blotter mat.

"We're back on _that_ again?" Steve scoffed. He paused and his head took on a crafty lilt, "I thought we put 'Steven' to bed." His hazel-grey gaze gave a minute narrowing as he waited for his friend's response.

Danny gave a heavy exhale at the utter diversion of the topic and steered clear from the bait. True to his word, that morning after their first bedfellows night, Steven had gotten up, grabbed 'Steven' where he'd lain broken in the hall all night, fired up the barbeque on the lanai, hosed the porcelain clown down with lighter fluid and cremated his namesake. Danny didn't have the heart to watch and he's never looked at that barbeque in the same sense. It was still a touchy subject.

The response was definitely not what the SEAL was wanting for his taunt:

"I've been with you all morning, Steve. I know you haven't eaten anything, 'cause I haven't. I didn't see dishes in the sink at your place this morning either, so I know you didn't get to eat before I came over." His fortified his chin. "You're grumpy 'cause there's no movement on the case, you'll feel better with a full stomach, because when Fong and Max come through, things are going to move fast again. Recharge your batteries, Super Man."

"Thanks," he muttered. "I'll drink it later." And completely dismissed the shake and turned his attention back to his computer screen.

Danny inhaled deeply through his nose, his blue eyes narrowed, gearing up—when Steve's desk phone chirped and Kono's voice came over the intercom:

" _Hey, Boss 1, Boss 2... sorry to interrupt what I’m sure is a very entertaining and enlightening conversation, but Fong's got something. He's on-screen. Max, too."_

Steve held the button. "Coming, Kono." He stood and went to go around his desk, but Danny mirrored him and gave the taller man a stern look, arms crossed over his tie, his blue-gaze looked pointedly to the shake standing untouched. Steve gave him a constipated look. "Really, Danno?"

Danny's brows flickered in uncompromising response. "It'll be easier for everyone if you just do it, Steven."

Steve groaned in frustration. "You're insufferable, you know that?" 

Danny just rolled his eyes. "You know you love it."

"Right," he scoffed. "If it'll shut you up..." he uttered. He snatched up the health shake, put the straw to his lips and sucked. His cheeks puffed with the mouthful, and he gulped, forcing the shake passed the nauseas lump in his throat with a slight grimace.

"See? Was that so hard?" Danny gave him a wide grin, hands held out. He turned and left Steve's office, as fluid as he had come in.

Steve wiped his hand over his mouth, his eyes closing just long enough not to be considered a blink. He ignored the ache in his lower abdomen, tossed the shake in the trash, and met the rest of the team around the Smart table, joined in video conference with Max in the morgue and Fong in the crime lab.

"Hey, guys." Steve greeted, arms crossed loosely over his chest. "Great timing. Max, why don't you share with the class first?"

_"Hello, gentlemen and lady."_ Max gave salutations. " _The victim sustained multiple broken and shattered bones. And more than half her body is_ _abrasions.  Cleaning the wounds, I discovered gravel, dirt and other manner of specimen that was picked up after being struck by a car, and thrown. The impact killed her. Before rigor mortis could set in, she was dragged across the street and thrown into the dumpster where she was found. I keep time of death at approximately 9 p.m. last night."_

"So it was a hit and run?" Kono said.

"Not quite," Danny piped up. "More like a hit, pause-long-enough-to-hide-the-body, then run." He gestured out with a hand.

Steve ignored him and addressed Fong. "What about you, Fong?"

_"The evidence we collected at the scene and Dr. Bergman sent over from the body agrees with that. The tire marks we discovered on the road near the alley where the victim was found are your standard all-terrain tread that can be fitted to too many vehicles to narrow it down. All I can say is that you're not looking for a truck or SUV."_ Fong explained. " _Analysing the flecks of paint that Max sent over from the victim’s wounds and clothing, I can tell you the colour of the car. It's a shade commonly known as Robin Red. It's, well... red. I did find some hairs on the victim, but running them, I discovered they weren't human hairs. They belong to a tortoise-haired cat."_

Just liked they had found at her condo _._ Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "So, we're still nowhere with finding the driver."

_"I may be able to assist with that_." Max spoke up. " _In my examination of the body, I noticed some oddities in the road burn on the right leg. Upon closer inspection, I discovered an imprint hidden in the flesh. I was able to sharpen the photo into some clarity and discern what appears to be a license plate_." A moment later, the photos appeared on one of the other unoccupied screens. " _I hope this will help_ ,"

"It definitely will." Chin agreed. "Thanks, Max." Max nodded and signed off. "You, too, Charlie."

" _No problem_." Fong closed the window.

"Alright. Kono?" Steve looked to the officer.

Kono began typing, bent over the table. "We got a... 5... 1... _... _... _... N." She entered the plate number and there were nearly fifty that showed up on the list. "That's a lot, boss."

"Maybe we can narrow it down," Chin voiced, tapping his chin. "It looks like there are some partials we can guess."

"You're right, Chin." Steve nodded. "The fourth spot could be either another 'N' or an 'M'."

Kono tried each; it whittled down the list, but not by very much. "The second last could be another '1.'"

"Or '7,' or even an 'L." Chin said. "There's not enough room for it to be an 'H.'"

"Man," Danny shook his head as Kono tried each variation. "To get an impression like this, the guy had to have hit her straight on!"

"Alright." Kono threw up the various lists from each variation of the license plate. "There's still quite a few. I'll run addresses and car model. We can take out the trucks and SUVs like Charlie said..." it diminished even further.

"Alright." Steve put his hands on his hips. "We'll split it up. Check 'em out."

"Huh." Danny cocked his head at the list. "Slamming," he read. "That guy sounds like a real douche." The others gave him questioning looks. "What? Look, 5-1-A M-1-N." He pointed to the list on the overlooking screen, underlining it. "You know people sometimes personalize plates? It says 'slamin''. The five is an 's,' the one an 'l.' He used it again as an 'i.' Slamin'. Butcher of the English language," he complained. "Anyways, we're taking this list." He told the cousins.

"Oh, I’m sorry." Steve interrupted. "What do you mean: _we're taking this list?"_

Danny turned to him with a raised brow. "I think the sentence speaks for itself, Steve." He addressed the rest of the team, "Do you guys take any issue with use taking that list?"

Kono held up her hands. "Whatever you guys want is fine with us. But I already e-mailed that list to your phones. And _we_ ," she indicated Chin and herself, "Are backing away." And then proceeded to literally back away.

Danny chuckled. "See," he waved a hand after the pair. "Problem solved. We're taking this list." He made for the exit.

Steve grumbled under his breath, but followed his partner, allowing himself a moment out of Danny's view to rub his abdomen blow his bellybutton. He jogged after Danny to catch up in the lot, ignoring the sharp jab at the movement.

**0 -xH50x- 0**

They'd been going steadily through the list of license plate owners over the last couple hours, but it felt like they were hardly making a dent. They took a break, but only because they needed gas. Steve pulled in next to the pump, parked and killed the engine. There was silence, neither moved.

"It's self-serve, Steven." Danny pointed out. "As in you have to go and pump the gas yourself." He mimicked with his hands. Steve looked at him. "Really?" Danny asked.

Steve gave an innocent shrug. "It's your car, Danno."

"My car, he says. My car?" Danny demanded, his hand tapped his chest. "Damn right it's my car—that _you drive_ all the time. So, why is it that _I'm_ filling it up **and** _paying_ for it?"

"If we were driving _my_ truck _I_ would fill it up and pay for it." Steve responded.

"If we were in your truck, you would still be driving it!"

"That's only because your feet can't reach the peddles," he said with the straightest face.

Danny sputtered indignantly at him. "Oh! It's like that, is it? Short jokes? Real mature, Steve! You know, this whole set up," he swirled his finger between the two of them, "Is seriously fishy and built upon immoral ethics. You keep showing me the carrot but I'm pretty sure my pockets are feeling the sting of that stick!" but apparently none of this touched the SEAL on a 'feelings' level. "Believe me, this is not the end." Danny warned with a raised finger, climbing from the car (his tie flapped with the dignity of a cloak) and slammed the door; but only because they were in the middle of a case.

"It never is," Steve murmured to the silence of the car, and smiled a little to himself. That was the point; if it never stopped, then Danny would always be there, just where the blond was supposed to be. Always within Steve's reach.

He turned the ignition key backwards and the A/C came back on. He turned his head on the seat headrest, seeing Danny in the side mirror at the gas tank with the pump, the cool current brushing against his heated and clammy skin.

Whatever he had woken up with, didn't seem to dissipate as the day went on, but seemed to grow stronger with his exertion of these home-visits. In and out. Out of the car and into the car. Into the Hawaiian heat, then into the air conditioned Camaro.

He would have gassed the car, he really would have, if he wasn't a little afraid of the ache in his abdomen that had turned sharper and migrated. He just wanted this to be over with so he could go home and act as miserable as he was feeling—and catch the bad guy of course.

Danny screwed back in the gas cap and closed the cover. With a glance at Steve through the window, instead of paying with his card at the pump, he jogged across the other lane and into the store.

Steve had been acting weird all day and Danny knew it had nothing to do with the Full-View Shower Incident this morning (that they weren't going to talk about, ever; but when has that ever really worked?). No, Danny would be a bad partner, best-friend and cuddle-buddy if he couldn't tell the difference between Steve keeping a mental/emotional secret v. a physical ailment. And with Steve, it could never be as easy to have a visible manifestation (that the detective might have got a glimpse of when he, well, got a glimpse of **everything** ), so it was some internal diagnosis.

It was a good thing that places like these usually had a little of everything. He was in the store less than five minutes. He shut the passenger door and decidedly did not miss the little flinch Steve employed at the jolt from his 100-yard-stare.

"Hey," Steve blinked at him. "You done?" his brows quirked at the sudden appearance of the plastic bag in Danny's lap. "Where'd that come from?"

"See, that—right there?" the blond twirled a finger at the brunette's entire expression and indicated towards recent spoken words, "It just proves my point."

"Oh? You have a point? When did this happen because I thought we just started this conversation."

"It proves the point to the conversation that we were about to have, but do not have to anymore because you just proved my point."

"Wh--"

"So, be a good boy, do what I tell you and it'll save a lot of our time and your energy." Danny rifled through his plastic bag. "Water. Drink some," he thrust the a cold bottle at Steve. "You're already sweating through your clothes and pretty soon it'll be into my seats—for which you will be paying for the cleaning. You getting dehydrated is that last thing we need."

Steve looked at the bottle in his hand almost dumbly. "I'm fi--"

"So, what is it?" Danny interrogated, "Nausea? You could hardly get down that swallow of shake at the office—don't think I didn't miss that." He wagged a finger at his partner and there was a twitch on Steve's face that indicated it as true. "Constipation? Diarrhoea? S--"

"Jesus, Danny!" Steve protested. "What happened to boundaries and privacy?"

Danny gave him a droll stare in return. "Other than the fact that I just saw you complexly naked this morning, and ' _anything boundary laden was blasted through,'_ —your words, not mine." He held his hands up innocently. "So... which is it? 'Cause I got a couple things from the gas station."

"If you think I'm taking anything, you're out of your mind." Steve scoffed.

"Look, I even found a 'health' lollies. No sugar, that's the kind of thing you're into, right? It's cocoanut flavoured. Open wide, kiddo." He held out the sucker. "Come on!" he cooed. His other hand made a finger and went to poke playfully at his friend's steel abs—when Steve whipped out one of his legendary ninja-moves, deflecting Danny's poke sharply. "What the--!" he shook the sting from his fingers, and lowered the candy.

"I'll drink the water," Steve told him stiffly. "Just don't poke me—I'm driving." And he quickly turned the engine on, put the Camaro in drive, and stepped on the gas. There was a squeal of tires as he pulled from the pumps and quickly into traffic.

"Hey!" Danny shouted in protest, grabbing onto the dashboard as the bag fell from his lap into the foot well. "At least let me get my seatbelt on, you Neanderthal, before you cause a mass-pileup on Alimona Ave.!" He quickly buckled in and glared at the driver. "And I won't poke you while we're driving—I'll just be responsible and poke you at a red-light."

"Unless you want me smashing the Camaro into a street post," Steve growled, tense, his hands gripping the wheel more tightly than necessary, "Then keep your hands to yourself, Williams."

"Alright. Alright." He held up his hands briefly. "This is going on the backburner— _for now._ But after **Slamin** [51A M1N], how it goes down is up to you." He put his foot down. "And this sucker is mine—that's what you get for striking people!" Danny scolded him and popped the sucker into his mouth with a haughty look. It actually didn't taste bad.

Despite himself, the corner of Steve's mouth ticked upward before he could school his expression. And it did not go unnoticed by the detective that Steve distinctly didn't touch the bottle of sweating water.

...

Ten minutes later, Steve parked the Camaro off the side of the road across from the corresponding address to the licence plate 51A M1N. The owner of the car lived in a shotgun house that could give Danny's list of shitty apartments a run for their money.

Danny pulled the owner's licence on his cell and showed it to Steve. Aiden Miro, a 27 year-old, Hawaiian born native. In the uneven dirt drive, his car was parked. It was a beat-up, rusting, volts wagon .

"That's looks red to me, I guess." Danny said, peering across Steve.

"Alright." Steve dragged a hand over his face, wiping away the collected sweat that the A/C had been doing nothing to alleviate. Now with the car off, the still air was not helping. "Let's check it out."

"Uh-uh." Danny's _tsk_ froze his fingers on the door handle. "Water." The blond was even nice enough to crack the lid for him.

Steve scowled, released the handle and took charge of the water bottle. It was slick in his fingers as he tipped it to his lips under Danny's keen observation. He managed two swallows, couldn't help the minute grimace at the still lingering lump in his throat. He screwed the cap back on and stared Danny down with an aloof expression.

"We're still not finished with this." Danny told him, but he unbuckled and opened the car door. Steve followed, but was a little more slow in the process of straightening. "Definitely." Danny eyed him as he came around the car. "Nothing heroic, Steve. I mean it," he held up a warning finger. "If something goes down, I lead." He really was not liking the look of how flushed his partner was, and don't think he couldn't see the pained crease around his eyes.

But Steve took a moment to center himself, to separate from the pain in his abdomen. He focused on the mission, and pushed himself over the mental wall of his physical ailments like he was trained in the SEALs. "I'm fine, Danno." And he pushed himself to make his usual long, confident strides across the street.

Cursing under his breath at his obstinate partner, Danny jogged to catch up.

In the drive, the pair checked out the car. Danny peered through the back window. "Well, now. I didn't think a purple handbag would be much Miro's style, but I could be wrong." He straightened and took a couple pictures through the window with his cell. Though it was definitely suspicious, it wasn't enough for him to breach the car.

"Hey, Danno. Check this out." Steve was at the front of the car, doing his own inspection of the front fender. Danny joined him and let out a low whistle; his cell up.

"That' definitely isn't your usual wear-and-tear."

"I'll say. That dent in the hood would fit perfectly with a body." Steve indicated. "And wouldn't you say that it's certainly _redder_ than the rest of this piece of junk?"

Danny crouched in front of the fender and inspected the license plate. His phone flashed as he took more pictures. "Blood." He agreed. "And this looks like a piece of material caught in the screw. Could be from Mrs. Hokana's clothing." The detective sighed and stood, and put a call into H.P.D. dispatch to get a patrol car and C.S.U.

"This guy didn't even attempt to cover up the crime." Steve said.

"Well, all the empty alcohol bottles making a pretty nice floor in his car might help answer that." Danny mused.

"You think he was drunk when it happened?"

"Drunk. _High as the sky._ " He shrugged. "This guy's been arrested several times for possession, a DUI... you get the picture. Not a very responsible driver." He sent off a text to the cousins before tucking his phone away. "I'm convinced."

"Alright. Let's get this bastard." Steve turned just as the battered front door open.

"Hey!" Miro stepped out, scruffy and unkempt, bat in hand. "Get away from m--" one look at them and he bolted back inside, slamming the door.

Steve was on the move in an instant. "Go around!" he shouted at Danny, already throwing open the front door and rushing inside.

Danny growled in frustration at his partner, but Steve left him no other choice than to swiftly change course and run around side the house. His path was heeded and hazardous with overgrowth, garbage, and the promise of a makeshift junkyard.

Steve managed to shove the door open before Miro could lock it, throwing the man back. Miro stumbled, bat clanking to the floor, but he didn't attempt to take the reserves SEAL on, and instead continued to tuck tail and run. It was a straight run to the back of the house and Steve charge after him.

Miro crashed through the back screen door with an uncoordinated jump down the short set up steps into the small, disused backyard that was overgrown and littered with rusty scrap. Steve was on his shadow, leaping after. Despite landing with a jolt that speared through his gut, he managed to flat-tire the perp. With a shout, Miro fell face-first into the weeds.

"Five-0!" Steve said, trying the tamp back down on the pain that did not want to hang in the background anymore. "You're under arrest for the murder of Mrs--" before Steve could contain the man, Miro rolled and kicked out, "AUGH!" 

A boot struck him in the gut and it was like a white-out button. The pain was so sharp and it was all he knew for several seconds before the world reasserted itself to Danny shouting his name, worried. But before he could tell his partner that he was _fine_ (even as he decidedly wasn't), that lump of nausea that had been  in-residence of his throat all day burst and all bets of concealment were over. Arms hugging his midsection, he bent at the waist, a red-hot poker in his right side and puked up the gulp of shake he'd had hours earlier under Danny's watchful and concerned eye, and the water he just took.

"Steve!" Danny shouted. He'd been delayed when his pant leg was snagged on something. The crash of the backdoor sent all care about a wrecked pair of pants out of mind and he tore his leg free. He finally came around the back just as Miro rolled on the ground. "STEVE!"

He sprinted forward, most of his attention on Steve even as Miro attempted to escape. Danny put a fast end to that as he kicked the man's feet out from under him, gave him a right jab to his nose to keep him down, jerked him around onto his stomach and cuffed him. He'd never read someone their rights as fast, before he turned his direct attention to his partner.

Steve gave a suppressed groan as he slowly straightened, but didn't quite manage his full height. He spat the taste of puke from his mouth and wiped his mouth with a slightly trembling hand.

"Steve?" Danny said, a careful hand on his back. "Babe?"

"Did you book 'im, Danno?" Was the first thing he said. "And 'M fine."

Danny gave a short, incredulous chuckle. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" he shook his head. "Even when you are clearly **not** fine. He's taken care of, don't worry. H.P.D. are on their way, C.S.U. Even Chin and Kono. I called it in before he came out, if you didn't notice."

"Can't show weakness in front of the enemy." Steve told him in a quiet, raspy voice.

"That stupid Navy messed hard with your head." He uttered.

Steve smirked a little. "You got it right, that must mean it's really bad." Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose.

"What happened?" Danny asked, because damn, he _was_ worried.

"I think that smell speaks for itself, Danno."

"Should have handcuffed you to the steering wheel, McGarrett." Danny grumbled.

"Trying to finally take advantage in my weakened state?" Steve tried to joke. "Knew it was only a matter of time with what you saw this morning."

They finally heard the sirens. "Thank god. Can you make it to the car?"

Steve gave him a look. "Right." Danny rolled his eyes. "Forgot who I was talking to for a second, Robocop. Come on." He went and grabbed Miro, who had a bloody nose thanks to Danny's jab.

Steve smiled when he saw it before heading back to the front through the house, Danny following after with Miro in hand. "Couldn't have done it better myself."

Out front, not only was a cruiser pulled at the curb, but so was the hatchback. Danny handed Miro over the uniforms, and the cousins met them.

"Boss," Kono gasped lightly. "You're not looking too good."

"What happened?" Chin asked, dutifully directing his question at Danny. 

"SuperSEAL here was hiding unwellness from me and Miro got in a lucky hit." Danny told the pair without preamble and Steve got a sour look on his face. The detective gave the cousins a rundown of the what had happened and where C.S.U. should concentrate their efforts. "Could you guys assume the scene? I'm taking Steve to the E.R." Steve started a token protest, but Danny just overhauled him with: "If I poke you in the stomach right now will you puke, pass out, or do both in a very dramatic and embarrassing rendition?"

Steve muttered under his breath and otherwise remained passive aggressive.

"Of course, Danny." Chin nodded. "Take care of him."

"I am right here," Steve grumbled.

"Hush, the grownups are talking right now, sweetie." The blond hummed teasingly and rubbed comforting circles on his partner’s back that were nothing but concern.

"Danny!" Steve whined, even as they started walking back towards the Camaro.

"Call us," Kono called after them. "Let us know everything's all right!"

Steve gave a faint grunt as Danny helped lower him into the passenger seat, before closing the door. He jogged around to the driver's side and clipped his seatbelt on. "Seatbelt?" he asked.

In response, because Danny was more than ready to buckle it for him, Steve reached his right hand over his shoulder and pulled the belt around. It didn't nothing for his sweaty, pale, flushed complexion. 

Danny just pursed his lips, keeping back his retort on just causing himself more pain, started the car and pulled from the curb. The closest hospital from memory to their location after some rapid rethought was King's Medical Center. Call him a pessimist, it was one of the first things he'd checked out when he first moved to O'ahu from New Jersey in case anything ever happened to Grace. And now, mush to his distaste, he used that mental map more often now that he was Steve's partner.

He parked in the closest, fastest free spot he could find. And was out of the car and to the other side by the time Steve had his seatbelt off. Whether the reservist wanted it or not, Danny helped him from the car. 

They managed to find an empty seat for Steve in the packed waiting room, and Danny quickly grabbed a clipboard from the pile. "Alright, out with it. The whole truth and nothing but the truth." Danny stood in front of his hunched friend, pen at the ready.

"Am I taking the stand?" Steve tried to joke.

Danny wasn't laughing. " _Steven_."

"Alright. Alright." Steve gave in and started the list. As soon as he said _pain in his right_ _abdomen , _Danny gave a sharp inhale. Steve glanced up at him. "What?"

"What, he says? What?! Lower-right abdominal pain?" Danny repeated, his grip knuckle-white on the clipboard and pen. "Did they not teach you anything in that SEAL school you like to brag about? Appendicitis, you Neanderthal! I could kill you right now. Let's go, get up." Danny told him, clipboard tucked under his arm, he grasped his clueless partner's elbow. "Come on. _Easy_." He helped Steve to his feet.

"Where are we going?" Steve wondered.

"I'm getting you a bed," he took Steve to the nurses’ station. "Excuse me, ma'am," he addressed the haggard-looking nurse. "My partner ne--"

"Fill out the form, please, sir." She barely spared Danny a glance.

"Yeah. I have the damn form." Danny retorted. "But he might not have that time to wait. He has lower-right abdominal pain. He was kicked pretty hard in the stomach about thirty-minutes ago, puked. He's not doing too well."

The nurse finally looked up, saw Steve and paged an E.R. doctor. "Come with me, we'll get you a bed."

**0 -xH50x- 0**

Danny shifted once again on the uncomfortable stool, his heels on the highest rung, elbows on his bent knees and face in his hands. 

It was hardly two minutes after they got to the bed that the doctor showed up and gave Steve an abdominal exam, which was hot to the touch, swollen and already showing a dark bruise that was suspiciously shaped like a boot. It was confirmed about the appendicitis and the doctor wanted him in the O.R. as soon as one opened up to remove it before it could burst; that kick Miro had landed made the doctor all the more anxious.

As they got Steve into a gown, put an I.V. in the back of his hand of fluids (that dehydration that Danny had been worried about) and a shot of morphine to hold him over until surgery; Danny took the moment to go back the Camaro and stow their weapons in the lockbox in his trunk, and call the cousins. When he got back to the pre-op room the brunette had been moved to, Steve was settled back into a mid-reclining position, and Danny's ass took up residence on the hard metal stool he'd pulled up from the wall.

"Danny," Steve called quietly, his head turned on the pillow. That shot of morphine the doctor had given him had definitely kicked in. The pain was less, like a low, throbbing, constant heated ache as opposed to the burning, sharp, piercing pain it had been before. "You're going to get hip dysplasia if you keep wiggling your ass like that." 

"That would be the least of our problems," Danny gave a self-deprecating snort, the heels of his hands pressed into his closed eyes of his still bowed head. "I'm still burning mad at you for hiding this from me, Steve."

"I already said I was sorry, and I didn't know that's what this is." Steve reasoned. "It was just a bit of nausea and what felt like a stomach-ache. I'm sorry, Danny."

"You don't keep things like that from me! Okay?" Danny finally looked up, his arm swinging wide. "I don't care how miniscule you think it is. A stomach-ache. A headache. I don't care, you tell me!" he smacked his chest. "Do you realize how dangerous appendicitis is, Steven? It can kill you, you can die! If it burst when that bastard kicked you, I wouldn't have been able to do anything by pray that an ambulance could get to us and back to the hospital in time so you didn't die from sepsis! Did you even think of that? Huh?" Danny was left staring with blazon eyes, panting lightly. 

Steve sighed, swallowing. "You know I would never have done that to you intentionally, Danno."

But Danny refused to give in. "This is just the same as if you got injured in the field and tried to hide it afterward."

"Danny, come on. I know you’re worried, but that is utterly not the same thing." He protested. " _You_ don't tell _me_ about every little th--"

Danny stopped him with a quelling look. "Do you not listen to me—ever?!" he threw up his hands. Danny pointed at him. "You don't get to argue with me on this right now, Steven. Or ever. Maybe it was just a bit of nausea and a stomach-ache this morning, but you knew better than as the day went. At the gas station, when I confronted you about it, you should have come clean. But you didn't. And at the house, even if you didn't tell me how bad it actually was, you knew, you should have let me after Miro and taken around side yourself. Then _us,_ " he gestured between them, "Would be here," he waved a hand around their curtained bed in the pre-op lounge, that was lined with other beds, most of which were unoccupied and those that were, were further down, giving them some privacy other than the pulled curtain, "Under calmer, less anxious and serious circumstance."

"You're right." Steve looked away in contrition. "I was--"

"Being stubborn, childish, irresponsible, bull-headed, idiotic, negligent, car--"

"Alright! Okay! I get it!" Steve shouted over him. He took a short breath and continued on in a more quieter volume. "I did know it was getting worse. I should have told you, but I _was_ being SEAL stubborn. I thought that I could push it all aside —just until we caught our killer."

Danny inhaled deeply, keeping his partner's gaze—and finally nodded his acceptance and forgiveness. He exhaled, shifting again on the metal stool, remembering just how uncomfortable it really was now that his focus had cooled down on his best-friend.

"Now, will you just come over here, already?" he patted the bed. "There's room enough for both of us. And it's definitely more comfortable than that stool."

"Sure." He returned sarcastically. "Wanna share that I.V. too? Do you listen to yourself sometimes?" Danny rolled his eyes. "We're in a hospital, Steven. I'm not going to snuggle with you!"

"Save yourself some energy and me some pain, and just do what I tell you, Danno." His tone of voice brokered no room for argument or denial of direct said action. "I will get up, come over there and drag you back myself."

"Be civilized, you Neanderthal. Do you hear how you sound?" But he stood slowly, lips pushed outward and stretched the kinks and stiffness from his muscles after sitting so long in that uncomfortable chair and what was now considered a contorted position from his youth. 

"Just wanna make sure no one tries to take what's mine." Steve grinned at him as Danny went around and approached his left side.

"Whatever," Danny mumbled, trying not to look too pleased. He took down the rail on the bed, and even toed off his loafers. On the space that Steve had slowly shifted free for him while still laying on his back, Danny hitched his right hip on the bed, then his leg and slowly twisted as he lay on his right side, curled carefully alongside Steve's unharmed left side, using a curled arm to support his head. "Happy, you possessive control freak?"

"Not quite," Steve disagreed. He carefully shifted, only grimacing slightly at the twinge in caused and a moment later, Danny now was using Steve's upper arm as a pillow, his forearm curled around his shoulders; Danny’s left hand resting on his thigh over the blanket. "There. That's better," he exhaled happily.

Danny stared at him in profile. "For the record," he whispered in reminder, their heads close enough that his breath ghosted across Steve's cheek and chin, "When I told you this morning in the car to just not tell me... I didn't mean this. Tell me anything, everything, okay? I don't care how trivial, or personal it is. Just tell me, okay? Just don't not say anything because I can't--" he choked off.

"Hey, hey." Steve hushed him gently, turning his head to face him, shocked and fond to seeing the shine of unshed tears in Danny’s blue-eyes. "It's okay, Danno. I promise, I'm going to be okay. I'm sorry I scared you back there. We're here now, it's going to be alright. Okay?" he nuzzled his nose into his partner's blond locks and kissed his hair.

Danny gently nodded, inhaling deeply and blinking away the tears that had taken him unawares. It wasn't a gunshot wound, or a broken arm and concussion; but that didn't mean it was any less scary because he couldn't see the blood.

...

Steve was now in the post-op wing. It was about an hour in surgery before he was brought back after a uneventful laparoscopic operation to remove his enflamed appendix. Danny liked uneventful, he loved it. His wished it was his best-friend, but he got Steve McGarrett instead—who didn't know the word uneventful. But unconsciously, it looked the man had taken lesson. 

When Steve finally roused from the anesthesia, Danny hit the pager and was primed ready with the ice chips when his hazel-grey gaze focused.

"Mm. Thanks," Steve swiped the drops of liquid from his lips with the flick of a tongue.

"No problem, babe." Danny put the ice chips back and sat gingerly on the side of the bed by his thigh so he didn't jostle the man. "The doc said it went well. He did laparoscopic, so you only have a few little incisions."

Steve tucked his chin in and looked down his chest, blinking. He reached down a slightly wavering hand, still feeling the groggy affects of the anesthesia, and started tugging at his gown.

"What are you doing?" Danny questioned in slight amusement, stopping Steve’s uncoordinated hand.

"Wanna see it." He said.

"We can do that right now," his doctor said, pulling open the curtain, stepping in, and closing it again. Danny quickly shifted back over to the metal stool. "How are you feeling, Steve?"

"Better already."

"Good," the doctor nodded. "Let's just take a peek, shall we?" he snapped on a pair of gloves. He folded Steve's blanket to the lowest point at his pelvis and pulled the gown carefully up.

Danny glanced away, and Steve smirked as he caught it. "What's the problem, Danno. It ain't nothing you haven't already seen."

"Steve!" Danny hissed at him, shooting a glance at the doctor, but he didn't appear to be concerned with the blatant sexual suggestion.

The doctor peeled back the large gauze bandage that overlaid the three small stitched incisions on Steve's lower-right abdomen for easier access while he was in the hospital. Steve turned his attention to them, wincing as the doctor gently examined them.

"Looking good." The doctor nodded, putting the bandage back and pulling the blanket back up. "As I'm sure your partner told you, we were able to do a laparoscopic removal of your appendix instead of an open surgery. I was worried about that kick to the stomach you had taken, that was why I wanted to get you into surgery as soon as possible; but it appeared to just have a worse outward manifestation of symptoms than it effected your appendix. If the placement of the hit had been a couple inches over, I think we would be having another conversation—or not one at all." He informed sombrely. "But the surgery went well, your vitals looks good. I believe you--"

"Can go home?" Steve perked up.

The doctor smiled. "I want to keep you for a few hours. If your vitals stay steady, then I see no problem with releasing you tonight. One of the perks of having laparoscopic surgery, a faster recorded recovery."

"That's great, doc!"

"You couldn't have gone for open, huh?" Danny bemoaned jokingly.

The doctor gave a friendly chuckle. "A nurse will come in a bit and check on you. If you need anything or there are any problems, please page the nurses’ station. Gentlemen," he nodded to them and departed.

"Help me with this?" Steve asked, trying to sort out his blanket and gown.

"Sure." He stood from the stool and managed to get Steve's gown back down without a glimpse of the Lockness Monster, and the blanket back up to his waist. "Ahh." Danny sighed contently, sitting back by Steve's thigh. "Work is going to be so quiet with you gone on medical leave. I'm going to actually be able to get some police work done. Follow actual police procedure. Call in backup _and_ wait for them to arrive at the scene."

"Right." Steve scoffed. "You're not going out into the field without me. No way, Danny. Not if I'm not there to have your back."

"That's hilarious. You Rambo-out all the time and charge into the field unattended."

" _Unattended_?" he repeated. "I'm not a five-year-old!"

"Oh, believe me, I know. They are definitely more well-behave than you." He drawled. He chucked his partner playfully under the chin, "But your are nearly irresistible with those puppy-eyes. _Nearly_ ," he repeated at Steve's glinty eyes.

"It's early yet," Steve murmured.

...

"Are you sure you don't want to stay the night?" Danny questioned, glancing up from where he was crouched in front of the man, guiding his feet into the double layered holes of his boxer-brief's and cargo pants as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Should we stay a little longer to get _your_ head checked out?" Steve returned. "Of course I don't want to stay! They discharged me. I'm good to go."

"I'm putting your pants and underwear on right now," Danny deadpanned.

"Speaking of that... what's taking so long?"

"What's wrong, afraid they're going to change their mind?" he mocked. He pulled the clothes up Steve's calves and stopped at his thighs. "That's as far as _I_ go, partner." But Danny didn't stand until his slipped Steve's socks on, then laced up his shoes. "Alright." He stood and grasped above Steve's elbows and helped him stand without straining himself so he could pull up his pants under his gown. He kept the waistbands low on his hips, zipped the zipper but left the button undone.

"If they changed their minds and made me stay, then you would have to be go home," Steve said as he shed the gown and Danny helped him into his over shirt, foregoing the tee, "And nobody knows how to take care of me like you do, Danno."

Danny glanced up briefly from his concentration of buttoning Steve's shirt to see his smirk. "More like free caregiver."

"And your loving touch," Steve added.

"Come on," Danny exhaled heavily, "Before _I_ change my mind about taking you home." He gently steered the man from the hospital to the Camaro in the lot with a gentl e hand on his back. It was around four that Steve was admitted to the hospital and they were leaving it now near midnight. Before Steve could get in, Danny adjusted the seat to recline a quarter back, before helping Steve into the low seat. He carefully leaned over the man and clipped in the seatbelt like a parent, but locked it with some slack so it wouldn't cinch over his incisions.

"We have to stop at the pharmacy to pick up your prescriptions, okay?" Danny pulled from the hospital parking and into traffic. "Are you hungry? Think you can eat something light before bed?"

"Sure," Steve agreed. "Now that I don't have a blender in my guts it's finally starting to feel like I haven't eaten all day."

"That's because you haven't, babe." Danny said. "Christ," he realized. "I haven't eaten since lunch, either." He glanced down at himself at the red light. "I think I lost a few pounds, what do you think?" he glanced at the man. 

Steve chuckled, carefully holding his abdomen. "I don't think it works like that. It's probably just some low blood sugar. You haven't had a malasada in awhile, you might be in withdrawal."

"You laugh," Danny pointed at him briefly as he drove. "But those are heaven, alright?"

"They're not bad." He gave a left-shouldered shrug.

"Blasphemy!" Danny declared. "Should of had them fix _your_ brain while you were under."

"You can handle it, big boy." Steve winked. "I believe in you."

Danny parked in the pharmacy lot in front of the store. He gave his best-friend an amused look. "Gave you a shot of the good stuff before they packed you off, huh?"

"Oh, yeah!" he giggled. "Finally kicking in. They're just trying to get me to come back. Repeat customer." He waved his hand and whacked it off the roof accidentally.

"You're definitely that," he eased the man's hand back into his lap. "But let's try and hold off for a little while, huh? Don't want to seem too eager."

"Mm-hm." Steve agreed vaguely, head lulling distractedly back on the headrest.

"The radio's on and I've cracked the window," Danny told him good-naturedly. "I'll be five minutes." And if he totally locked the car when he left so Steve wouldn't be able to leave for whatever reason in his high state, the blitzed SEAL needn't know.

...

"Alright, Sleepy. To bed with you." Danny finally declared.

He'd popped a couple pieces of bread in the toaster for Steve, and slathered them in honey when they popped back out as toast; a warm glass of milk accompanied it. He had a couple packets of Pop Tarts himself, sweet and sugary; another 'unhealthy' thing he'd hidden in Steve's cupboards for when he was over and couldn't face the healthy. And now Steve was starting to doze in the reclining chair Danny had stationed him in when they got home, the long day and surgery finally catching up to him.

"Mhn." Steve mumbled the complaint, but let Danny do most of the work of getting him to his feet and staying there. Danny tucked himself under Steve’s left arm and was his support as they made slow progress up the stairs.

"Come one, babe. One step in front of the other. I know you can do it—you certainly run me into enough bad situations at work."

When the finally got into the room, Steve instantly teetered for the bed, but Danny tutted him and steered him to the en suite. "To the bathroom. You’re not going to bed without brushing your teeth, buddy."

"It's one night." He complained. "It'll be fine."

"Nuh-uh." Danny disagreed. "I have no desire to find out what your breath smells like in the morning. Not when I know what it smells like when you _have_ brushed them."

"Hey! Your breath isn't blooming daisies either, buddy." Danny parked him in front of the sink.

"No," he agreed. "Wilted daisies—but that's definitely better than decaying daisies. Brush 'em!"

Steve conceded, but right side movement was a definite no-no right now, so he had an awkward and clumsy time of brushing his teeth with his left hand, but he managed.

"And pee, too, even if you don't feel it." Danny left him to it.

"Yes, mother." He mocked quietly.

Danny heard it anyway. "Don't make me come back in there, sit you down and tuck you in, Steven!" he threatened from the bedroom.

"Alright already! I'm doing it." He called. He pushed his already undone cargoes down his thighs and took himself out of his underwear. It took him a minute to get started, but Danny was right, he felt better afterwards, less 'full' at the pressure at his lower abdomen. He flushed and washed, and simply just kicked his pants off the rest of the way as he made his way back to the bedroom. He stripped off his shirt and he was ready for bed in his boxer-briefs; the less clothing restricting him right now, the better.

"Alright?" Danny has already turned down the bed. A glass of water was on the nightstand on Steve's side, his pain relievers and antibiotics were already laid out for him to take.

"Yeah, I managed to pee, thanks." He rolled his eyes. He gave a shallow grunt as he lowered himself carefully on the edge of the bed. He took his pills and carefully reclined back against the pillows, letting out a slow, controlled stream of air when he was completely down.

Danny carefully climbed into his side (in a pair of loose tracks and one of Steve's tee's), vigilant not to jostle the bed. "Comfortable?" he wondered, still sitting up. He considered his friend's still posture, even while reclined, his side of the blanket low on his pelvis and off his hips. Steve gave a noncommittal grunt that was answer enough. "Would you be more comfortable on your left side, take the pressure off?"

"Maybe,"

Danny helped him shift further into the bed, turning on his left side. Danny slid in behind him and let Steve recline back on his chest, acting like a wall of pillows. He carefully pulled the cover over the three smaller bandages that were spread within the diameter of Danny's spread hand and to his waist. "Better?" he gave two claps and the bedroom lights blinked out.

"Mm-hm." Steve agreed lowly. He took Danny's right arm, tucked it under his arm, high at his ribs and draped across his bare chest to seal the deal.

Danny silently spread his palm over Steve's chest, left-center; able to feel the tremble of his heart through his breastbone, muscles and skin. It was as comforting as Steve's weight against his chest or the warmth of his skin to chase away the dark fear that he really could have lost Steve today (and not in a blaze of stupid glory; not that that would change the despair that would consume him).

"Hey, Steve?" he murmured. Steve's sigh was the only sign he got to the thin veil of consciousness he was clinging too. If Steve was an opportunist in taking advantage of a Jersey native in a vulnerable state, then it was just another thing the two had in common. "You're off for at least a week. Desk duty after that if the doctor clears you for light-duty. Crime scenes if I'm feeling generous, but no take-downs, foot pursuits, shoot-outs, car chases or monkey business until you're cleared for full-duty. Hm, Steve?"

"Sure, Danno, whatever you want." And then he was out. He was definitely more agreeable when drugged and exhausted.

"Oh, I'm going to hold you to that, SuperSEAL." Danny addressed the sleeping man.

He pressed a kiss to the man's hair, smelling the faint, clinging perfume of the hospital. There was definitely a shower in the brunette's future later tomorrow. _Later_. They were definitely going to sleep in. Danny was just as exhausted as Steve, his worry and anxiety and frustration all had him on his last thread, and he quickly followed his stubborn partner in dreamland.

**H A W A I I . F I V E - 0**

**Author's Note:**

>  _Wow. I just wanna say wow because this line:_ ~"Did you book 'im, Danno?" Was the first thing he said.~ was the first time that I actually used the “Book ‘Im, Danno” _quote in one of my Five-0 stories. I know that these last couple of SUGAR Series updates have been more injury/drama/angst than all the previous ones were more ridiculous/humour based, but I hope you’ve liked them anyway. I have an idea for another update, which I think will probably gear towards a mixture of the two. Hoped you enjoyed, please don’t be afraid to review or like/fav—I definitely won’t regret it if you do!_


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